tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64939688725265868932017-04-29T07:21:00.725-07:00Note to Self Book BlogA blog about stuff we experience and wisdom we can impart with a "note to self" about what happened.Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125NoteToSelfBookBloghttps://feedburner.google.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-35012016709011847892014-07-25T11:42:00.000-07:002014-07-25T11:42:13.446-07:00You're never going to believe this, but…..<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MQzTXLwIozE/U9KkD6uKMcI/AAAAAAAAAMg/QjitnOhhRn8/s1600/ruby2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MQzTXLwIozE/U9KkD6uKMcI/AAAAAAAAAMg/QjitnOhhRn8/s1600/ruby2.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruby is 2 and happy!</td></tr></tbody></table>Hi. &nbsp;I have some crazy ass news to share. <br />For anyone who has read my blog, &nbsp;this is going to come as a surprise….<br />I'm pregnant and due to give birth to a baby boy any minute. &nbsp; Now, given that I gave birth to Ruby two years ago, it doesn't seem like getting pregnant should be that big a deal, BUT, Ruby took six years, and thousands of dollars and four different doctors and IVF. <br />This time, it happened the good ole fashioned way on the night of my birthday. &nbsp; I am 46. &nbsp; Halle Berry watch out.<br /><br />The pregnancy has been incredibly stress free, except the first trimester where I was on high alert because of my age, but somehow, miraculously, I have beaten the odds, and so has this little boy spirit who wants to come and play with his sister and add joy to this household.<br /><br />We have named him "Boone"….after my great uncle x 5, &nbsp;Daniel Boone (the guy who founded Kentucky, among other things).<br />Truthfully I've been living in a state of disbelief and utter shock and awe by the miracle of this pregnancy given that I was told over and over again that I would never have a child with my own eggs. &nbsp;But I wanted to share it with who ever &nbsp;happens to read this and tell you that Miracles do happen.! &nbsp;I'm humbly on my knees in gratitude and truthfully scared shitless!! <br /><br />xxx,<br />Andrea<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/E9Q0VpvOtrM" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com4http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2014/07/youre-never-going-to-believe-this-but.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-32958631392663708052014-07-25T11:41:00.001-07:002014-07-25T11:41:17.114-07:00<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/EANNda9tsng" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com0http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2014/07/blog-post.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-86655608942806687342013-03-05T13:54:00.001-08:002013-03-05T13:54:28.963-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QHy5FWXGL6s/UTZo5DQPISI/AAAAAAAAAL0/QbYoIvuvB0w/s1600/ruby+kissing+me+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QHy5FWXGL6s/UTZo5DQPISI/AAAAAAAAAL0/QbYoIvuvB0w/s1600/ruby+kissing+me+picture.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br />I'm here. &nbsp;I'm mothering. I'm writing.<br />I'm worried. I'm peaceful. I'm tired.&nbsp;&nbsp;I'm grateful. I'm craving dark chocolate. Nothing has changed.<br />Ruby is almsot 9 months old and as God as my witness it feels like yesterday that she came into this world. &nbsp;The depths of sadness that will wash over me when I come to understand that her life is going to whizz by, like the A train in NYC, is almost too much to take. &nbsp;It's all going too fast. &nbsp;I love being her mother. I love taking her to play dates. &nbsp;To the park. &nbsp;She loves to swing. &nbsp;She crawls. She pulls herself up.<br />She is perfect. It stops me in my tracks to say those words. I'm a mother. &nbsp;What? &nbsp;And a daughter. And a wife. A sister. A friend.<br />My breasts are full. &nbsp;I must go pump!!<br />xo,<br />Andrea<br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/tccuRVx6Mcs" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com4http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2013/03/im-here.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-20831031791723954342012-09-19T16:42:00.002-07:002012-09-19T16:43:29.515-07:00the price we pay for unadulterated love. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="goog_211389642"></span><span id="goog_211389643"></span><br /></div><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwzZIdl3_V66eqhL9DTvSSpb8e1mPNz8Rgjb2_jW0dd4FravXVEiyD6tpuscFmawxX3GRFEgHDu4XyDChkJeQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mv46PUo4Mvk/UFngflVe-DI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/jhTbqEai18Q/s1600/Image+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mv46PUo4Mvk/UFngflVe-DI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/jhTbqEai18Q/s320/Image+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Ruby Marie is three months and three days. &nbsp; The summer has been long and hot and we've survived it with flying colors with the help of our friends and family, of course. &nbsp;The village aspect is alive and well and I highly recommend getting one if your'e going to have a baby. <br /><br />She's been through three LA earthquakes, attended Friday night Jazz at Los Angeles County Museum of Art, twice, eaten out A LOT, had a few girls nights in, and has made me smile so hard and so much that my face hurts. <br /><br />She sleeps 8-9 interrupted hours a night, breastfeeds like a champ, loves to go on hikes, loves her dogs, and all her aunties, and I think she said &nbsp;"Hi" the other day. <br /><br />I know it's hard to imagine, but we are in love. &nbsp;She's sweet, smart and just so happy to be here.<br /><br />I've lost my vision, my hair and my ability to hold my pee, but she's worth it.<br /><br />Everyone said the minute you meet your child all the pain and hardship that we experienced getting here, would go away. &nbsp;They were right. &nbsp;The spirit, the body, and the mind have all worked in concert to orchestrate forgetting all of that stuff so we can be present and enjoy NOW. &nbsp;It's yet another great lesson in being present. <br /><br />Gratitude abounds in this household, day in and day out.<br /><br />xo<br /><br />Andrea<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/-5N4ogQM83s" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com0http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-price-we-pay-for-unadulterated-love.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-8162592305018442932012-07-18T17:08:00.000-07:002012-07-18T17:08:53.450-07:00No, really she's' a genius<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw6kWD3_r8OI07FbZvy3yxtwt2zMOFA3RxSOfunP3QEytP_Hfa0GTGmy93ikbDJxFkK7TRgK65cT9zGVevd0Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>I didn't think it would happen, but it has. &nbsp;I absolutely am one of those parents that believe my child is a genius and she's only a month and two days old....and it's not just me that believes, it was confirmed the other day in the Pediatricians' office. &nbsp;Not only is she smiling at me, just because she is happy, not because she has gas, but she's also tracking the dangly things we hang over head that have black and white spots on them. &nbsp; AND to top it off, she rolled over in the Docs office when we went in for her check up. &nbsp;While the doctor was showing us how to do tummy time, Ruby went from her stomach to her back. &nbsp; My friend said, "it's because she's being raised by dogs, that she can roll over so fast". &nbsp;Very funny. &nbsp;Yes, that's it. &nbsp;That and she's a GENIUS. &nbsp;Her doctor actually was surprised and a little taken aback because Ruby almost rolled onto her stethoscope and then right off the table. She warned us that since we have a very strong girl on our hands and "advanced" :) &nbsp;to not leave her on a surface unattended. &nbsp; No more running to get that thing I left in the other room for five seconds, or run and pee because I can't hold it, and have peed on my leg, &nbsp;since childbirth, or turning my back on her for one second. &nbsp; &nbsp;Just as I was getting comfortable putting her down at all, now it's all about her flinging herself off the bed etc. Not that she's rolled over since, but &nbsp;okay, okay I get it. &nbsp;All that time she was in my womb I would talk to her and tell her that she is smart. She is strong. &nbsp;She is healthy. &nbsp; It's amazing. &nbsp;I guess she actually listened. <br /><br />Note to Self: &nbsp;Don't be careful what you wish for.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/ZY-gEmqhB4s" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com2http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/07/no-really-shes-genius.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-52919202924716664102012-07-02T16:24:00.000-07:002012-07-02T16:24:13.736-07:00Ruby Marie Buchanan Berkin is here!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUfsYXhyH9U/T_IsqY9_eKI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/hqYeDW1qYQM/s1600/Ruby+brand+new.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUfsYXhyH9U/T_IsqY9_eKI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/hqYeDW1qYQM/s320/Ruby+brand+new.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />We are tickled pink, over the moon, swelling with gratitude, smiling every second of every day to meet our baby girl, Ruby. &nbsp;She is healthy. She is strong. She is perfect. &nbsp;She looks just like Jason. &nbsp;I went into Labor on June 15th at midnight and she was born 17 hours later :) at 7:10 pm on June 16th. &nbsp;She was worth every push and painful contraction. &nbsp;It was such a profound and beautiful experience, one that I will never forget. &nbsp; I had my tribe of women in the room, five closest girlfriends and sister, our Birthing Doula and Jason by my side holding my hand, coaching me every step of the way. And the incomparable Dr. Crane, who is worshipped by legions of women in LA, and now I know why. &nbsp;There were lots of tears, dancing, bouncing on a big blue ball, standing in showers, throwing up, laughing, chanting, singing, cursing and finally after an hour of pushing, I was able to reach down and pull her out of my hoo-hoo (that's code for vagina) and onto my chest. &nbsp;The first sight of her was heart exploding, mind melding, other worldly. &nbsp;If you had told me aliens delivered her to me, I would have believed you because the other story, that I grew her in my belly and pushed her out of my vagina, and then pulled her onto my chest with my bare hands seemed just as unlikely. &nbsp; &nbsp;Pregnancy has been a wonderful experience, but now that I think about it, it was mostly conceptual. &nbsp;The kicks, the hiccups, the pictures of Ruby on the ultra sound were all real, &nbsp;but the idea of her and what she would look like, how she would move, what it would feel like to touch her, and smell her skin was a concept. &nbsp;Not anymore. &nbsp;She's here. &nbsp;And it's our job to keep her alive and watch her grow. &nbsp;Another "concept" I'm slowly wrapping my head around. &nbsp; To think that after five years of wanting, trying, praying, crying, and now we have this beautiful baby girl, well is just about the best way to wake up everyday that I could imagine. &nbsp;The tears are still coming, but they are filled with Joy and a few moments of self doubt and fear, but so far I can handle those. &nbsp; We are committed to staying close to home for the first six weeks of her life. &nbsp;Today is the start of week three. &nbsp;I'm basically a milking machine, and walking around our house in a breastfeeding daze. <br />The dogs are doing great, a little bit of an adjustment, but so far they are handling it. &nbsp;By the way, I still love my dogs as much as I did before Ruby arrived, maybe even a little more. &nbsp;Whew what a relief. <br /><br />Angela, Thank you for the perfect burp clothes. I LOVE THEM!!!!<br /><br />I'll write more soon.<br />xo,<br />Andrea<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMc01g76OVk/T_IsyDorK3I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/9d-am85yijM/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMc01g76OVk/T_IsyDorK3I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/9d-am85yijM/s1600/photo.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LXjEw2Bt6LM/T_Is841-ZOI/AAAAAAAAAKE/W5ZQ0ut6xD0/s1600/Ruby+in+white.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LXjEw2Bt6LM/T_Is841-ZOI/AAAAAAAAAKE/W5ZQ0ut6xD0/s1600/Ruby+in+white.JPG" /></a></div><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/KKexoX0yvIc" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com7http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/07/ruby-marie-buchanan-berkin-is-here.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-30685937833748160782012-06-08T12:43:00.002-07:002012-06-08T12:43:46.069-07:00Today is Ruby's due date!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNYUO_V_deI/T9JVlTH5CZI/AAAAAAAAAJo/fhd9t2NFA14/s1600/DSC_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNYUO_V_deI/T9JVlTH5CZI/AAAAAAAAAJo/fhd9t2NFA14/s320/DSC_0357.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />Howdy,<br /><br />Today is Ruby's official due date, but she's still hanging in the belly. &nbsp;Jason and I are doing great, she's doing great, the dogs are awesome, I'm convinced they know more than I do about when she's coming....and as my Doc (who I worship) said yesterday, PATIENCE is key during this time. &nbsp;This pregnancy has flown by, I can't grasp that I've been doing this for ten months, when it feels like just yesterday I found out and yet now it feels like a slow motion ride rather than the warp speed one we've been on. <br /><br />One of the biggest surprises is that pregnancy has done some amazing things for my body: &nbsp;bet you don't hear that very often :) &nbsp;My weird Granuloma skin disease has cleared up, which means I'm wearing tank tops for the first time in four years, my hair is thicker than it was in High school, and I've actually been referred to as "small" when people hear how far along I am. &nbsp; I'm 5'10", size 10-12 and an 10 1/2 shoe, being "small" and "pregnant" is just something I never dreamed of. &nbsp; It seems superficial, and it more than likely is, but I'm not gonna lie, I've enjoyed it!!! &nbsp;Oh yes, and there's going to be a baby in my arms in a matter of days, that of course is the biggest blessing of them all. That's going to be blow my mind!!<br /><br />I hope you're well and enjoying the summer. &nbsp;Thank you so much for reaching out, saying prayers and being a blog friend.<br /><br />Next post will be some baby news!!<br /><br />xo,<br />Andrea<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9dg8FhBO9FM/T9JVc-NAHyI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rmz4QZLIU4Y/s1600/DSC_0388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9dg8FhBO9FM/T9JVc-NAHyI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rmz4QZLIU4Y/s320/DSC_0388.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br /><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/23OmY1qrmn0" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com5http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/06/howdy-today-is-rubys-official-due-date.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-52497389412667829552012-03-23T14:08:00.008-07:002012-03-23T17:01:45.531-07:00Ruby it is.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lVG2-iOWmI8/T20FDyjLZrI/AAAAAAAAAI8/sZHkFvbU6vU/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lVG2-iOWmI8/T20FDyjLZrI/AAAAAAAAAI8/sZHkFvbU6vU/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723236264124835506" /></a><br />There's a Gap in Los Angeles at the infamous Grove Shopping Center that is a two story mega Gap, with Baby Gap, Boy Gap, Diane Von Furstenburg baby clothes Gap, Body Gap and the creme de la creme, Maternity Gap. It's quite literally a Mecca for pregnant women and moms, and I have had my fair share of melt downs in this store over the years during my own VERY challenging fertility journey. I've witnessed very pregnant women buying yummy cotton maternity shirts, or baby clothes for their child to be, or just walking around in a pregnant daze with their own personal soundtrack and people smiling from ear to ear while holding the door open for them. For the past five years, while trying to get pregnant, I've left the Gap-azon after buying a cute newborn outfit for someone else's child, in all sorts of states that I'm not necessarily proud of: I've left crying, cursing God, and laughing maniacally at the injustice of life while quietly convincing myself that my life is better than theirs because I have freedom and the ability to go to the movies whenever I want. As if a comparison of one person's life to another is ever a way to live. Needless to say, this particular Gap holds a lot of emotions and memories for me. <div><br /></div><div>Well, the most amazing thing happened the other day at THE Gap. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a lot of literal blood, sweat and tears and some good fortune, I was now one of the very pregnant women shopping for a cotton maternity shirt, for $4.99 on sale, with horizontal stripes, to fit over my 7 month pregnant belly. My internal soundtrack was a mixture of Adele, The Beatles and a groovy chant by Guru Singh. I wasn't in a daze, quite the contrary, this moment was not lost on me. In fact, I had a smile from ear to ear that finally I was having my Gap moment in the sun. Finally, I was going to be the lady who people smile at "just because" and who folks hold open doors for. I was/am seven months pregnant buying maternity clothes and I wanted to soak up this moment and make it last forever. </div><div><br /></div><div>This lovely sales associate named Tean asked if I was doing okay and if I needed help, and we struck up a conversation. </div><div>"How far along are you?", she asked. </div><div>"Seven Months", choking back tears of joy. </div><div>"And you're having a girl." It wasn't a question, mind you. It was a statement. </div><div> "Good guess, Tean. Yes, I'm having a girl."</div><div>Tean then said, "Well, I hope you're going to name her RUBY." </div><div>I dropped my striped shirt on the floor and became flushed, "What did you say?" </div><div>Tean repeated exactly the same words as before, "I hope you're going to name her Ruby." </div><div>I literally couldn't believe my ears. </div><div>"Why are you saying that?" I asked her as I let the tears fall, "That's my Grandmother's name and yes, Ruby is a name we are seriously considering. One of two names actually. But we were just waiting to meet her to make the final decision." Tean and I talked for the next hour and had an incredible conversation. She's twenty seven and in the process of adopting two boys. Her sparkly eyes and incredibly open heart made me want to stay at The Gap all day and chat. The bottom line explanation, according to Tean, for this 1 in a billion moment happening is that she has always had spirits hanging around her and that the words, "I hope you name her Ruby" was said by "someone" and she just blurted it out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whether it was my Grandmother, who I worshipped with all of my being and who taught me card games, manners and the proper way to snap and prepare green beans, or the little spirit that's been hanging around me for so many years and is now in my belly, or the both of them conspiring and imploring us to choose the name that we've always had in our hearts, Lord knows I don't need much more convincing than that moment with Tean to know that Ruby it is. </div><div>Jason agrees. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of our chat, Tean and I hugged for a very long time, and we actually said that we loved each other as I left. Who does that? The profundity of this moment will never leave me. It's a story I will share with anyone who will listen and especially with my daughter. It's a story of perseverance and never giving up on a dream, facing the incredibly difficult challenges that life throws us as best we can, and to always be open to the miracles around us, big and small, everyday. It's a theme I've written about, even when I wasn't quite sure I believed it. But now, I'm a believer, and in my darkest moments, I will always have THE GAP. </div><div><br /></div><div>Note to Self: Expect a miracle. For reals. </div><div><br /></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/7fsIrnyRJiQ" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com19http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/ruby-it-is.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-27106675691531836562012-01-04T10:47:00.000-08:002012-01-04T11:03:35.017-08:00HAPPY NEW YEAR -- IT'S 20 (GULP) 12<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rW14wvo5PFU/TwSiZV23HoI/AAAAAAAAAIw/wz6DAcwhAdU/s1600/card.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rW14wvo5PFU/TwSiZV23HoI/AAAAAAAAAIw/wz6DAcwhAdU/s400/card.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693854385150828162" border="0" /></a><br />WIPE THE SLEEP FROM MY EYES, STRETCH OUT THE HOLIDAY COBWEBS, TURN OFF THE IOWA CAUCUS RESULTS, AND LET'S DO THIS!!!!<br /><br />LET'S MAKE THIS YEAR ONE OF:<br /><br />RADICAL LOVE.<br />JOYFUL DAYS.<br />PEACEFUL NIGHTS.<br />AND PLENTY OF TREATS FOR EVERYONE.<br /><br />MY 2012 NOTE TO SELF:<br /><br />WHERE YOUR ATTENTION GOES, ENERGY FLOWS --- FOCUS ON WHAT'S GOOD.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/_Twid22VfV4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com1http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2012/01/happy-new-year-its-20-gulp-12.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-21520721297364569392011-12-13T12:50:00.000-08:002011-12-13T13:09:38.554-08:00I am Pregnant! You heard me......Pregnant!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDo3-GPoOck/Tue-XzAqjeI/AAAAAAAAAIk/LlnWkxOcJQQ/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDo3-GPoOck/Tue-XzAqjeI/AAAAAAAAAIk/LlnWkxOcJQQ/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685722370617806306" /></a><br />Listen up, Good People. <div>I've waited almost four months to share this exciting news and have almost written to you everyday. <div>I'm pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><div>Couldn't be more excited and wanting to shout it from the mountaintops. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you've followed this blog at all, you've been with me through a lot of tears, frustrations, ugly faces, and 100 percent lack of faith in God, myself and anything that has anything to do with babies and me. I've bitched and complained and also found faith again, all while writing in this blog. It's been a place where I could share the almost unexplainable pain and suffering that I've gone through trying to get pregnant and start a family with Jason. And every time I wrote that I got my period again, or IVF didn't work or an adoption fell through, I always felt a sigh of relief at the end of this little box. Somehow, just writing it all down, barfing it out, sharing it, would always make it better and knowing that good thoughts were coming my way, made the days a little easier. </div><div><br /></div><div> I'm no expert, I'm no scientist, and I'm about as far from a theologian as one can get, but I can sit here at my desk and tell you that sharing this journey with you has been one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences of my life. You, who sits there and reads this, are a witness and many of you have prayed for me, lit candles for me, and I cannot thank you enough. I'm on my knees in gratitude and am weeping as I write this. You are my miracle. That you've cared enough to care, and ask and comment, has been my salvation. Thank you to the ends of the earth and beyond where the sweetness of miracles live. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are Fifteen Weeks Pregnant and having a Girl. Science worked. God worked. It worked. </div><div>God willing, it will all continue working and on June 8th, or somewhere around there, I will give birth to Ruby. </div><div><br /></div><div>And if I may be so bold, to anyone who is reading this and has been on a long road or journey of your own, without results or what you desire, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP! Take it from me, persistence is the answer to getting what you want in life, no matter what it is. </div></div><div>I'm here if you need me. </div><div>XO, Andrea</div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/8zvL_q22UL4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com11http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-am-pregnant-you-heard-mepregnant.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-39664394260072219042011-06-16T19:21:00.000-07:002011-06-16T21:35:57.148-07:00The miracles of AMMA and the TSA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vSYMNQCfwCU/TfrZhzDUbcI/AAAAAAAAAIc/gbcB0Hoc0jI/s1600/IMG_1166.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vSYMNQCfwCU/TfrZhzDUbcI/AAAAAAAAAIc/gbcB0Hoc0jI/s400/IMG_1166.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619042659761155522" border="0" /></a><br />About one month ago, on my way to NYC, to attend <a href="http://www.joyfulheartfoundation.org/">The Joyful Heart Gala</a>, (I'm a proud board member) and I went through TSA security at LAX. Don't you hate traveling these days? I took off my belt, my shoes, (ew) and my watch (that was a gift from Oprah you heard me, Oprah) and a ring that was made by my very dear friend, Robin Renzi the amazing artist behind the jewelry line, Me and Ro. Now, by the sound of this, you might think I have very expensive jewelry, but the truth is, these two pieces are some of the most valuable pieces I own, and both have incredible sentimental value. Oprah/Robin. Oprah/Robin. It wasn't until I was washing my hands in the lavatory that I realized that I was watch and ring-less and I let out a scream that the pilot heard. Short of losing my engagement/wedding ring, losing these two pieces of jewelry was the most devastating (and costly) I could imagine.<br /><br />For the next five hours I relived the placing of the ring and watch in the plastic bin, beat myself up, couldn't believe I left them behind, tried to think of where else I could have left them. Starubcks? Nah. And then resigned myself to the fact that I will probably never see them again. The ring? I know Robin, and while she no longer makes this design, she's a dear friend and she is the kind of gal that would make me another one. The watch? Oprah. Forget it. Good bye diamond encircled black alligator band, water proof, opalescent face, Phillip Stein. I don't imagine that I'll ever receive another gift bag quiet like the one my friends and I did from Oprah that weekend we spent in Montecito. But that's another story.<br /><br />Here's where I get to the point: I landed. I called Jason and begged him to drive to the airport to claim my jewels. He drove on a Sunday. Not fun considering he already drove me to drop me off. They said "sorry sir, we don't give them back to anyone else other than the person who left them behind. Your wife will have to call and file a report." It was Sunday. Did I mention that? I called on Monday. I heard from a guy named Jose on Thursday, while I was still in NYC and all they said was to call back. I called back about 15 times and never heard from anyone again. When I returned from NYC a week later, as I was walking out of the airport and asked if I could claim my jewels, the badged TSA guy laughed and said, "we don't have them. Good Luck. I thought that was the end of my story.<br /><br />I actually kind of forgot about the jewels. You know how that is: We lose. We Grieve. We forget. But upon further investigation, because there was a nagging voice inside me that said, "Don't give up" I found that there is a TSA lost and found office near the airport that you can physically go to and see if there's a pot at the end of the rainbow.<br /><br />One month later, almost to the day, a dear friend and I were on our way to see <a href="http://www.amma.org/">AMMA</a>, the hugging Saint who makes her yearly trek to LA to give out thousands and thousands of blessings/hugs. I'd never heard of her, but I'm in a big need of any blessing I can get and this sounded like a perfect way to spend a Friday morning. AND I could maybe swing by the TSA lost and found (had no idea where it was) and see if by one chance in a million they would have my jewels. We drove to the first address I had and a grumpy, yet helpful police officer said,"Go across the street and the TSA lost and found is there." Well, across the street is where AMMA was. That can't be right. How could AMMA, the hugging saint from India be close to my country's National Homeland Security Lost and Found office?<br /><br />It was. In fact, I would say, without being hyperbolic that they were about 500 steps apart from each other. I walked into the lost and found at 10:00 am and by 10:15 I was pleading with the sweet woman behind the desk. Told her my sad story, as I stared at about 50 unclaimed laptops. She looked into her computer through her legal pad and then said, "Hey I was the one who got this jewelry that day." I screamed, "What?? YOU have my jewelry." Within Five minutes the sweet, helpful woman emerged with a plastic baggy and inside was the ring and watch. I did a TSA, Homeland Security Dance and hugged the lady behind the desk. <br /><br />Ten minutes later, we were amidst an AMMA hugging frenzy. It was a good Friday full of blessings, lost treasures and hugs.<br /><br />Note to Self: Don't give up on yourself. Your Government. And your need to get a hug.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/fQQTY_8a1QQ" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com2http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2011/06/miracles-of-amma-and-tsa.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-89028038778435688692011-05-25T12:37:00.000-07:002011-05-26T11:47:31.670-07:00Marrying God on the "end of the world" day.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1e_9jhQD6EM/Td2BisELWwI/AAAAAAAAAH4/1GeWLbNODFo/s1600/Ardmore%2Bfamily.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1e_9jhQD6EM/Td2BisELWwI/AAAAAAAAAH4/1GeWLbNODFo/s400/Ardmore%2Bfamily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610783143717722882" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ErR_l68UL_w/Td2BiQyHUSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/XMwSOBHbCgE/s1600/Communion.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ErR_l68UL_w/Td2BiQyHUSI/AAAAAAAAAHw/XMwSOBHbCgE/s400/Communion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610783136394203426" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These two beautiful girls are my twin neighbors, Cindy and Sandy, who I've written about in previous posts. (Can you believe how grown up and gorgeous they are?) As a re-cap, they are from Guatemala, they always seem to ask the most profoundly astute questions at just the right and sometimes the wrong time. Such as "why don't you have babies?" after I've just come back from the fertility doctor. Or when our husky, Newman was ill and we knew our vet was going to come over and send him to doggie heaven, they came over to say good bye and asked "are you going to shoot him?" Or the time they came over and we had a Menorah and a Christmas tree in the window and they revealed they secretly wished they were Jewish, "because Jews are rich."<br /><br />We first met Cindy and Sandy when they were ten years old and would come to our door dressed as little witches for Halloween, and here they are four years later, at their communion service in a very robust Saint Tomas Catholic church, just a few blocks away from our house. It's an all Latin American church and the entire service was in Spanish. My broken Spanglish got us through some of it, but truth be told, I'm embarrassed I don't speak more of the language. I grew up in Texas, live in Los Angeles and it was my minor in College. I have no excuses. I think I've been waiting for my Exchange Student experience that escaped me in college to happen as an adult. Bucket List: Live in a Spanish speaking country for a year (preferably Spain) so I can fully learn the language.<br /><br />The communion for the twins was on May 21st, the day that the world was predicted to end by some English speaking radio minister who spent hundreds of thousands of dollars marketing this idea. Cindy, Sandy and the hundreds of other folks in the church, clearly didn't get the message. Maybe it was the language barrier. Their day was not about how the world was going to end and what can I sell before it happens, but more like "this is the day I'm marrying God, and I've got the white dress to prove it."<br /><br />The proud woman behind them is their Aunt, you can't see their gorgeous Mom to her left. After the service we went across the street to the Catholic store and bought little religious bracelets and book marks about walking with the Lord and we gave them a little money. I had never been to a communion before. It's like a BaT Mitzvah with....wait for it.....JESUS. We went to their house, on the porch, party next door, and took pictures of the family, drank some red wine and listened to very loud Guatemalan Reggae/Rap. It felt good and we were both honored to be included in their celebration.<br /><br />When I asked the girls what's the most important thing they learned during their communion studies they said, "Finally we get to try the wine and the bread." The twins never disappoint.<br /><br />Whatever the case may be, while thousand of folks across the nation were preparing for the rapture, there were two young girls who live in a crowded two bedroom apartment with their Mother who doesn't speak English and cleans homes for a living, doing her best to give her gorgeous daughters a relationship with God and a leg up in this world that she didn't have. Jason and I are going to do everything we can to help them along the way.<br /><br />Note to Self: Be good to your neighbor.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/6XNlS6W1o7M" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com3http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2011/05/marrying-god-on-end-of-world-day.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-16332345048396113712011-04-04T15:06:00.000-07:002011-04-29T17:43:27.462-07:00Blizzard cont'd<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bWICy_ud16Q/TZpKRqk9JeI/AAAAAAAAAHo/JZRyYhxUkDs/s1600/Blizzard%2Band%2Bwiley%2Bat%2Bvet.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bWICy_ud16Q/TZpKRqk9JeI/AAAAAAAAAHo/JZRyYhxUkDs/s400/Blizzard%2Band%2Bwiley%2Bat%2Bvet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591863554681415138" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_09wTo5FJYo/TZpKRQTqbEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/01G2OZY8kVQ/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_09wTo5FJYo/TZpKRQTqbEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/01G2OZY8kVQ/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591863547629562946" /></a><br />As you can tell by this photo, the master plan of giving Blizzard away, the white husky who showed up on our front door four months ago, didn't work. I want you to know that I did make the eight hour drive to my friend Cal's house North of San Francisco, to give him to her. The whole way up there, I knew he wasn't going anywhere. As I rounded the sun kissed corners of the Sonoma Coast and with the ocean crashing on my left hand side of my car, I would look back at his face and see the worry in his eyes and the trust in his heart. How could I give this creature away to anyone? Even if the anyone was one of my closest friends. I've never seen a dog so attached so fast. He literally was glued to my side and when we tried to put him in her 1/2 acre fenced yard, he FREAKED out. Started jumping to clear the six foot fence and digging a trench big enough to fit his long white body. He knew that my plan was to leave him there, and he wasn't going to let it happen. Even if she did have a view of the Pacific Ocean and vineyards surrounding her house. <div><br /><div>So the next day, I loaded him up in my car and I drove back eight hours and thus began the fun of having three dogs. I can't explain this relationship and how it began or why it works so well. Just like I can't reasonably explain why children have eluded us, but Huskies magically appear on our doorstep. But I can tell you this, that Spring has Sprung and the possibility of life is all around us. Wiley and Blizzard are best friends. They play and kiss and lay with their paws touching. I can't look at them and not smile. I can't help but see magic in their eyes. And even though I thought by taking in another dog I was sending a message that my Love Basket was full, and there would be no room for a baby. That was fear taking over. We will have more one more dog bowl, more dog food to buy and more poop to clean up, but the love won't run out. And there's plenty more where that came from. </div><div><br /></div><div>Note to Self: when love comes to your front door, let it in. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/7Bywb73k_JY" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com0http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2011/04/blizzard-contd.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-27022406658605637482010-12-15T08:52:00.000-08:002010-12-15T09:07:19.927-08:00Blizzard<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TQj1hjIfXjI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vwzxA2mzBIE/s1600/blizzard_1.gif"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TQj1hjIfXjI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/vwzxA2mzBIE/s400/blizzard_1.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550956497449475634" border="0" /></a><br />This beautiful Husky came to our front gate two weeks ago and stuck his nose through the fence to say hello to our other Husky, "Wiley", who also appeared on our front door (two years ago), who we kept and who appears throughout this blog.<br /><br />Here's the strange thing about this story, besides the fact that we have random, homeless, collarless, starving, Huskies come to us in the night, each time a Husky has appeared we have been close to either having a child or adopting a child. Our eldest Husky, Newman, died a year and a half ago, he was 15 and I really believed and so did all my friends, that when he passed we would immediately get pregnant. Well, that didn't happen, but Wiley appeared on our front door and now this guy. We've named him "Blizzard" and he's turned out to be a majestic and magical salve to a failed adoption and another holiday without kids in our home. He's hilarious and loves Wiley and we want to keep him so badly but we can't. I really believe our heart is open and so is our home for this child, which is why all these other "babies" are showing up.<br /><br />My plan is to drive him eight hours in a car tomorrow to my friend, Cal's house. She's planning on adopting him and making him her own. She lives in the country and has a 1/2 acre fenced yard. I will miss him, but am thrilled that he will live in her love.<br /><br />I don't have a reasonable or logical explanation for what this phenomenon is....why these dogs appear when they do and why they happen to be Huskies, but I do know that it feels like magic, it feels like hope, it feels like love.<br /><br />Note to Self: Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/PvGw-4daBt4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com2http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/12/blizzard.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-61942127674325265962010-11-24T08:40:00.000-08:002010-11-25T09:49:11.679-08:00Cost Benefit Analysis = nada!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TO1UXa1Q6wI/AAAAAAAAAHI/WcS0bs44sVE/s1600/sweetdreams.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TO1UXa1Q6wI/AAAAAAAAAHI/WcS0bs44sVE/s400/sweetdreams.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543179477679401730" border="0" /></a><br />When was the last time you went on a roller coaster ride? I've always loved them. The scarier the better. When I was a kid and would ride the Shock Wave at six flags in Texas I would hold my hands in the air as the cars did loopty loops and sent me screaming upside down being held in the seat by the cyntrifical force.<br /><br />Most recently, Jason and I went on our own adoption roller coaster ride and we held our hands in the air, asking the Universe to give us a child. We were in line to adopt a baby boy whose birth name is Nicholas. It happened so fast. On Tuesday we got the call, we wrote a letter to the birth mom, We saw his picture, we fell in love with him, we worked through all our fears and doubts about "one day not having a diaper in the house to the next day having a baby in our arms." We came up with some great names for a boy, we fantasized about having a baby here for Christmas, which would be so awesome, and we got ready. We spent six days working through it all, Spiritually and emotionally. And we had our army of friends who are mothers on call to bring over everything we would need if we got to bring home a baby. Diapers, formula, blankets, car seat and a bassonett, apparently you don't need much at first. Loving arms, food and diapers, which if anyone really figured that out, baby showers would become obsolete.<br /><br />The birth mother, is a single mom, and got pregnant with an egg donor and sperm donor. She gave birth to fraternal twins and is unable to keep them both so she is giving up the boy. Her big thing was to make sure the kids have a relationship down the line when and if they are ready to know their sibling. We agreed. We made a photo book of our lives together (working at an African orphanage, swimming with dolphins, kayaking skiing, abundance of friends and beautiful families, jason's MBA graduation, my book party, and pictures with us and all the children in our lives) brought her flowers, and showed up with open arms and an open heart.<br /><br />Turns out, she is about as different from Jason and me as apples are to oranges. She is an auditor and said the words, "I did a cost benefit analysis" to determine whether or not to give up the boy for adoption and needed to go home and do a spread sheet to determine who the parents would be. Our lives seem "too fast" for her so she went with the person she could recognize...the CPA who is a stay at home mom. We travel, and have very full lives with friends and families. Why anyone would see that as "too fast" is beyond me, but all of this is. It's out in the yonder, where miracles happen, and children are born and the right families are chosen to be parents to the children they are meant to raise. I will always have a picture of Nicholas in my mind, and wonder years from now, how he is doing. My hope and wish for him is that he gets to see the world and by doing so, he learns that we are all different for sure, but we are certainly all one. I send a prayer up to him and to the birth mom, and hope that the transition is a beautiful and peaceful one.<br /><br />This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the love and support of our friends and family and for getting closer to having a baby than ever before. It's real. It's happening. Just not on our timetable. STILL. And I'm grateful for the roller coaster ride and that Jason is willing to hold up his hands with me even when it is really really scary!<br /><br />Note to Self: Love is not a spread sheet. Love is God.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/U_pSskSoufs" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com5http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/11/cost-based-analysis-nada.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-59980079913975125822010-10-12T19:48:00.001-07:002010-10-12T19:57:44.062-07:00The Peepers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TLUfvE2WZiI/AAAAAAAAAHA/JTT_PnhWQCo/s1600/IMG_0719.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TLUfvE2WZiI/AAAAAAAAAHA/JTT_PnhWQCo/s400/IMG_0719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527359011283166754" border="0" /></a><br />The day after I turned in my book, Jason and I went on a cleanse, called the Master Cleanse. God help me. Both of us went ten days without food, not a morsel of food. Only maple syrup lemon water and herbal tea. It was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. Going through ten days of not eating in spite of what's going on in my life was challenging, impossible, but it happened. And I truly feel like I could do anything after finishing it. Three days after that huge accomplishment, we boarded a plane for NYC to meet my folks, Buck and Sue 80 and 83 years old and my sister, Allyson and her husband, Bob to show them Manhattan and then on to Vermont where we hooked up with my in-laws, Beverly and Neal. I will never look at Maple Syrup again after ten days of drinking tablespoons of the sweet dark liquid. Vermont is amazing and the colors of the trees have been nothing short of stupendous. I have more family stories to share, but that will have to wait either for my memoir or if I'm so compelled this blog. They are doozies.<br />Fall is spectacular. I h0pe you get to see it. If you do you too can call yourself a Peeper.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/_sogoAWb9ME" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com3http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/10/peepers.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-50719057959251822932010-09-17T15:13:00.001-07:002010-09-17T16:29:46.405-07:00I'm back.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TJPqcxxRj2I/AAAAAAAAAG4/jqLukEd9g40/s1600/IMG_2630.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TJPqcxxRj2I/AAAAAAAAAG4/jqLukEd9g40/s400/IMG_2630.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518011748576235362" border="0" /></a><br />Sorry I've been out of it lately, but thinking about you just the same. I am at the very tail end of finishing the book. The title is : "Live and Let Love" and it's 28 women on the layers, the laughter and the litter of love. While all the heavy lifting is over, I still have some loose ends that need to be tied up. I plan to tie them over the weekend. Hopefully into beautiful satin purple bows. I'm very excited about this new collection. The women are brave, hilarious and inspirational. There are New York Times best selling authors, screenwriters, activists and actresses and music teachers. Can't wait for you to read it.<br /><br />I don't know what to make of it. This feeling of finishing. It's a mixture of elation and sadness. This process has been so fun at times and I'm not gonna lie, pure hell at others. No different than my first book. It's just like birth. From what I hear you forget how horrible it is and keep doing it. Only I'm birthing books, not babies. Not yet at least.<br /><br />Speaking of projects that mean something, Jason and I are still moving our two balls down the court. Egg donor and Adoption. I have so much to tell you on the subject of both. I've learned so much about what's out there and how to go about this. And still there are people all around me who are getting pregnant. From my youngest nephew's wife to a friend of mine who tried for her second child for some time, to just about everyone, it seems, but me. It's hard not to cry and be depressed. Very hard. But I try to find joy in the smallest of things. Growing my own tomatoes, Running with my Dogs. Hugging my husband. And going to the movies without paying for a babysitter. And publishing a book which doesn't fall under the list of small things, by any stretch, but certainly an accomplishment. One day we will be parents and that day couldn't come soon enough.<br /><br />I'm glad to be back.<br /><br />Note to self: Laugh when you cry. It makes a really funny noise.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/Mx9XDXXLq4o" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com4http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-back.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-59103543346102680392010-06-10T22:52:00.000-07:002010-06-10T23:46:44.881-07:00Small steps in a slippery world.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TBHasBUzp2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/JAbrP_M2Sl4/s1600/IMG_0663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/TBHasBUzp2I/AAAAAAAAAGo/JAbrP_M2Sl4/s400/IMG_0663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481402671291410274" border="0" /></a><br />Hi. Lots has been going on over here since I last wrote. I hope you (those who happen to read this) are all well and know that I think about you often.<br /><br />I am certain everyone of us is watching the news. The oily sick birds, those weird bright orange floatie things in the ocean that are supposed to stop the oil assault given to us courtesy of BP, the High Def oil flow picture that is spilling gazillions of gallons into the water a day. I for one, a self admitted news junkie, can barely watch the news anymore. I have to admit, my focus has been on what's happening to the ocean, the livelihoods of those who live in the gulf, the animals who are either suffocating or burning from the inside from the oil that's coating them on the outside....but today I got the wake up call. Eleven men died. I knew that, I've thought about them, I watched 60 minutes. But, today the father of one of the men who appeared on the news crying for the loss of his son brought it home for me like no other. They were sons, brothers, fathers and friends<br />The world seems upside down, inside out, and everyone who is supposed to make us feel better all seem slippery. Where do we go from here?<br /><br />I cry. For lots of reasons. Today I cry for those lost men.<br />I am so sorry for the families' loss and I hope they find peace. I hope they know this country grieves with them and that they are in our thoughts and prayers.<br /><br />Just a little step: This coming Sunday the Social Services person with the Adoption agency we are working with comes to our home for our final House visit before they give us the go ahead that we will be put on a list for a baby...to adopt. Small steps are happening and we are getting closer.<br /><br />Note to Self: Very small steps sometimes feel really good!<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/7a8aRp_0NVg" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com4http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/06/off-top-of-my-head.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-16726665589685253042010-04-21T22:06:00.000-07:002010-04-28T09:49:44.767-07:00Uncle Kenneth Lively 1925-2009<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S8_gmREr-AI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VJiH3f7qeK4/s1600/Unknown.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S8_gmREr-AI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VJiH3f7qeK4/s400/Unknown.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462831821046413314" border="0" /></a><br />My Dear Uncle Ken passed away a few months ago. He was a faithful husband, a father, a loving brother to my wonderful mother, a grandfather, a friend to many, hilarious beyond words and one of the smartest people I've ever known. He was also a World War II gunner...his memory was a steel trap and his life as a journalist was his tool to eloquently recall every detail of his life in Europe sixty years ago.<br /><br />His wife, Jan and daughter, Phyllis organized a tree planting ceremony in his honor last month on a bright, chilly spring day in Austin. As we listened to the young man in charge of such things on the campus, talk about the Live Oak that was about to be put into the ground, my father stood up to tell the crowd of about fifty people, a story. As life and luck would have it, the hill where the tree was planted was the exact hill that my Dad used to play as a kid. His grandfather's house was on this grand hill under the shadow of Memorial Stadium, home of the Texas Longhorns, and where the LBJ library now stands. It was a big beautiful colonial with bluebonnets in the front yard. The hill where my Uncle's ashes now rest, and a new tree was planted to join its hundred year old ancestors, was the same hill my father ran on, rolled down and loved as a young boy. Sometimes life is just too much! My friends and I call moments like these Quarks. Those moments when coincidence isn't an explanation, and luck isn't an answer and life just happens in a beautiful series of moments that make you gasp.<br /><br />I regret that I didn't spend more time with my Uncle. That I didn't know him better. But, I am grateful that in the last few years of his life we found a common bond. He was a great writer, and I learned a lot from him, even if he didn't know it. He supported me in huge ways. He came to my book party in Dallas last March when he didn't feel well, when the brain tumor that would ultimately take his life was growing silently. He walked to the Barnes and Noble near his home to buy copies of my book the day it came out. He would say to me, "kid, so many people want to be published, and you did it. You got published."<br /><br />We bonded over Obama, chocolate cake and God.<br /><br />He was a treasure. He will be very missed.<br /><br />Note to Self: Don't let a lifetime go by before you realize the hidden treasures of family.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/FVqtjrbVp-o" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com1http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/04/uncle-kenneth-lively.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-84404724468843145222010-03-18T21:00:00.000-07:002010-03-23T14:08:53.401-07:00Cory Booker is Awesome!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L4QzXpWAI/AAAAAAAAAGY/07011s0qOk4/s1600-h/cory.jpg"><span><span></span></span><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L4QzXpWAI/AAAAAAAAAGY/07011s0qOk4/s400/cory.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450191466622703618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L4Qn3Wq0I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/z_W8kFfbH3A/s1600-h/cory.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L4Qn3Wq0I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/z_W8kFfbH3A/s400/cory.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450191463534472002" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L3-dpPGTI/AAAAAAAAAGI/kVPO1G3AYqQ/s1600-h/cory_peach.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S6L3-dpPGTI/AAAAAAAAAGI/kVPO1G3AYqQ/s400/cory_peach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450191151553255730" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I am in Newark, New Jersey....working on a Mayor Booker commercial. He's the real deal. Nothing about him is false. He helps the people in ways we only dream of...he shovels snow for people stuck in their driveways. He helps guys coming out of prison get jobs. He keeps his streets safe. He is a true inspiration. If you don't know about him...please check out his website.<div>http://www.corybooker.com/ We captured real Newarkers talking about why they believe in Newark. I got a sunburn in NEW JERSEY and one of my best friends, Leelee Groome, her brother Harry and his best friend Walter kicked some butt. I believe in people who want to help other people grow and be better. <div>I believe in Newark because I believe In Cory Booker. </div><div><br /></div><div>Note to Self: Believe in something...your spirit will soar!</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/Y1I4rC6Y2gM" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com0http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-director.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-55758365781115121442010-03-01T18:24:00.001-08:002010-03-02T17:40:44.965-08:00Out of Office reply: maternity leave<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S42jwtRtkYI/AAAAAAAAAGA/dmvjSUMMRoI/s1600-h/IMG_2220.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S42jwtRtkYI/AAAAAAAAAGA/dmvjSUMMRoI/s400/IMG_2220.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444187581743731074" border="0" /></a><br />I spent most of my day emailing folks, reaching out to people, gathering names and writing to do lists regarding my book. I sent emails to four people who I have been in a business relationship with over the course of the last year. All three came back with an <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">out of the office reply: I'm on maternity leave </span>email. This pretty much stopped me dead in my tracks. No wonder I haven't been getting any speaking gigs. My speaking agent is out on maternity leave. No wonder I haven't heard from that editor at that magazine, she's out on maternity leave. NO WONDER the person who I spoke to three months ago and who is interested in submitting a story for my book hasn't called me back SHE'S having a baby. I am happy for all you fertile people out there, but sometimes the absurdity of it all is almost too much to take. It seems like everyone is able to pro-create but me, and never is that more obvious than when so many women get to take time off to go have a baby. I want to have a baby and have some time off. I want to be pregnant. I want complete strangers to smile at me when I'm walking through the Gap shopping for that shirt that I can wear in my 8th month. I want for men to hold the doors open for me, and give up their seats for me. I want to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon and know that I am doing it for the baby and feel absolutely NO GUILT about it. I want an <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">out of office reply I'm leaving to give birth </span>of my own. I want to be pregnant!!!!!God, are you out there?? Can you hear me?? I want to be pregnant.<br /><br />If you had asked me six months ago whether or not I would try IVF again with an egg donor, I would have said emphatically, NO. And six months later, well what do you know, I've changed my mind. We are going for the egg donor. And adoption at the same time. But I really want to be pregnant. In case you didn't hear me the first three thousand times. <br /><br />Note to Self: Never say never.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/A3WziPfWMrQ" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com4http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/03/out-of-office-reply-maternity-leave.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-68317753269652087992010-02-25T22:44:00.000-08:002010-02-25T23:02:53.911-08:00Writing a second book<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S4dxKHm3KPI/AAAAAAAAAF4/uEf75JNn2GQ/s1600-h/Brunch+girls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S4dxKHm3KPI/AAAAAAAAAF4/uEf75JNn2GQ/s400/Brunch+girls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442443093355210994" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Hi lovely people!<br />It's official. I am writing my second book. I want and need your input. <br />The working title is Note to Self: Love. If you feel so moved, please can send me stories about your dating life, married life, divorced life and everything in between. You can email me at Andrea@notetoselfbook.com<br />I want to include you in this process since so many folks have asked me how I was able to write a book in the first place. <br />I plan to blog about this journey along with continuing to keep you up to date as best I can about<br />fertility and when we are going to have a baby. <br />We are thinking about egg donors now. (more on that later) Shit. It's all so weird.<br />Also still working towards adoption.<br /><br />Also, I have an article in Women's Health --- March. ON stands now. It's about not being afraid to Ask and getting the things you want in life. <br />I hope you are all doing great. I wish we were all in my living room watching the Olympics.<br />Okay gotta go, the ladies figure skaters are coming on to skate for the Gold.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/c24GmKqPV9A" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com7http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/02/writing-second-book.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-3811054876682750312010-02-05T12:55:00.000-08:002010-02-05T13:26:33.670-08:00I am pro-choice!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S2yLuA3u4MI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wbIpoBvZD-A/s1600-h/jasonfullmoon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S2yLuA3u4MI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wbIpoBvZD-A/s400/jasonfullmoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434872472953348290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I hope that doesn't offend anyone in this community and if you need not follow me anymore because of it, that's cool. I figure I best come clean here and now. I made a movie in 2004 called "A Voice for Choice" that chronicled the march on Washington and talked about Reproductive Rights in this country. It was an amazing film to be a part of and activated a side of me politically that I didn't know existed. I have spent the last few years very politically active and definitely lean to the left on most issues.<br /><br />I was asked to write a piece on Tim Tebow Super Bowl commercial that is going to air on CBS for Vanity Fair. As a person who has read pretty much every Vanity Fair that's ever been published, getting asked by their editor to do an Op-Ed for their website was a joyous if not triumphant moment for me.<br /><br />Here's the link to the piece. http://www.vanityfair.com/online/politics/2010/02/tim-tebow-is-the-new-trojan-horse.html I am sharing with you, my blogging community, mostly because you all know my own journey to become a mother and how I don't take pregnancy, motherhood and the choice to have children lightly at all. We Are all miracles!! in the eyes of God (whatever your God may be) I do believe, however, that when a major network brings the VERY controversial abortion debate into national television on Sports biggest viewing audience day, and then they don't show the other side, it's irresponsible. I am not happy about it as is evidenced in the article I wrote, and I also stand by what I wrote.<br /><br />Many of the comments from readers about the article have talked about me lumping Christians in with the murderer of Dr. Tiller. My words do not suggest that. I have nothing against Christians. I love Christians. I also love Jews, Buddhists, Atheists, Muslims, Pagans and people who worship turnips. I don't think Christians get to own any side of this debate. We are people first. Christians (or whatever religion) second.<br /><br />If a major Anti-Choice group is going to suggest to women in an ad, "don't have an abortion, you just might end up with Tim Tebow as your kid", it sends a dangerous if not crude message to the thousands of women who are facing that decision in their life right now. I send a prayer out to the universe for all of us. That one day we will come together on this issue, and that it won't cause such vitriolic hatred from either side. I respect women and men on this issue and any feelings they have whether they be for choice or not. Of course, in the end, it's a woman's choice, not a man's, not God's and certainly not CBS'<br /><br />GO SAINTS!!!<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/-h5s4hH8cSU" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com2http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-am-pro-choice.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-59413997754750653192010-01-12T22:34:00.001-08:002010-01-14T22:51:23.721-08:00Mother Mary are you there?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S1ANLlANyGI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/fGK7xGzFVGM/s1600-h/maria.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S1ANLlANyGI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/fGK7xGzFVGM/s400/maria.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426852043544184930" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The doorbell rang at 10:00 a.m. I was on the phone speaking to the fertility doctors' office to make a follow up appointment. I said hello to Adrianna and Ana as I asked them to wait one moment while I finished my call. They are two women who come into our home once every two weeks and clean it like nobody's business. They weren't coming to clean today, however, they were coming over to take me to see their "friend" who does Mayan/Mexican massage to help women get pregnant.<br /><br />I drove them about 30 miles East of los angeles to a very poor part of El Monte, to meet Maria, the mexican massage doctor. We made awkward conversation at first. All the while I had Haiti on my mind. Wanting nothing more than to fly there and help those kids. Adopt those babies. Help those people. But in my desire to have a child I have decided to try anything and flying to Haiti apparently is not on the list today. So I am driving through hellish traffic, with my housekeepers to try the witch doctor approach. Which, by the way, I'm in full support of.<br /><br />I walked into Maria's apartment with Adrianna (who speaks no English) and Ana who is 19 and is Adrianna's niece and is sweet enough to come along and translate the whole experience. We were greeted by Maria her bright green eyes, hunched back, arthritic leg and sparkly smile was a welcome relief from the congested freeways of Los Angeles. Walking through her very small apartment (probably government housing) with the gigantic flat screen TV blaring Mexican soap operas, two small children crusty, dirty, beautiful and running around with a chihuahua and her daughter cooking pork on the stove, I made my way into a dingy bedroom with two full beds.<br /><br />As I lay down on the bed, I'm not going to lie, I was freaked out by the dirt on the bedspread. I hesitated but didn't want to be rude, so I put my Gap scarf on the bedspread, took my jeans off, left my shirt on and underwear. Maria massaged my belly. Deep into my belly. Her crowned front teeth glimmered off the dusty sunshine through the dirty drapes. I looked up at the Mother Mary statue hanging on the wall, garfield stuffed animals (30 plus) arranged neatly on the bed. She rubbed arnica on my belly, thighs and told me my feet were too cold to get pregnant. I need to wear socks. She slapped my bum, rubbed my Uterus (apparently it's crooked) and said go home and have sex with your husband. You will get pregnant tonight. Okay. Easy enough. Problem is he's not home tonight. He's flying home from San Francisco. Drats.<br /><br />I have decided that Ana and Adrianna are the sweetest women I know. They want so badly for me to get pregnant. They put socks on my feet. Told me twenty times if they told me once to take it easy tonight. I was told to drink two cups of Arnica tea and stay warm. Maria, the green eyed witch doctor has said she is going to put a candle at the feet of the Mother Mary which is large and decorated just to the left of her front door. She is going to pray to Mary for me. In my sheepish appreciation I asked that she also pray for the people of Haiti. For it is times like these that our own wants and desires become glaringly small in comparison.<br /><br />I believe in all forms of healing, medicine, and absolutely believe in prayer. In front of a statue deep in El Monte tonight is a candle lit by Maria to help the children of Haiti and to assist me, this privileged American, who wants nothing more than to be a mother. I would absolutely without a doubt, be the mother to any baby who needs it tonight from that hellish nightmare in Port Au Prince. Wish I could figure that one out.<br /><br />Note to self: Angels are everywhere, hidden, hovering, helping where they can.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/nlKsRFVG2_c" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com1http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/01/mother-mary.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493968872526586893.post-46420236820280195412010-01-12T22:15:00.000-08:002010-01-12T22:47:10.166-08:00Happy 20zen!!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S01qmlyi-kI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Wtx1B_LG5jo/s1600-h/LOVENY.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RCfsHWzlK4w/S01qmlyi-kI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Wtx1B_LG5jo/s400/LOVENY.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426110337263008322" border="0" /></a><br />Before I go into this blog....as I'm watching CNN.....I want to send prayers to the people of Haiti, their family and friends. My heart goes out to them and I will give whatever I'm able to the Red Cross to assist in the recovery. Earthquakes Suck!<br /><br />Hi. Happy New Year! Happy 20ZEN. Get it? instead of 2010...It's 20ZEN. The year of letting go. But not taking your eye off the ball. No Fear. All Love. Fierce Love. <br /><br />I have been in slow motion since the holidays ended. That weird malaise that happens when the family leaves, the excuse to eat sugar cookies are over and spending hours in the kitchen (happily) cooking for twenty are no longer, has happened to me. I would like to say my holidays were restful, but that would be a lie. They were happily full and I loved every minute of it. We threw two Christmas parties, made cookies for our police officers, made cookies for Santa to give to all the kids in the neighborhood, had a book club gathering, sang carols, and then my family came in from Texas with their three dogs, and my in laws. It was chaotic and amazing. I love making meals, pouring drinks and wrapping gifts, but when it's done, I crash. And so crash I have. Don't get me wrong, I've been calling people, emailing folks, started a writing group, am working out again, but my brain has been in data collection mode rather than output mode. AND drum roll, please We FINISHED THE ADOPTION PAPERS.<br /><br />And the Crowd roars.<br /><br />Just came back from an evening with Marianne Williamson. She is speaking in Los Angeles every Tuesday in 2010. She is a masterful inspiration. I am eager to get this year going but refuse to do it with my eyes closed. <br /><br />Note to Self: May we all keep our eyes open, but not be paralyzed by what we see.<img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NoteToSelfBookBlog/~4/XZHM4pGetjE" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>Andrea Buchananhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08746465670906988716noreply@blogger.com2http://notetoselfbook.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-20zen.html